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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121966">Epiphanies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianixela/pseuds/ianixela'>ianixela</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben dates Bazine in the past but it's not the focus of the story, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fertility Issues, Fluff, Light Angst, Medical Procedures, Miscarriage, Mother's Day, Non-monogamous relationships, Reylo - Freeform, Reylo Baby, Semi-Public Sex, Unconventional Families, Unconventional Relationship, also I've listed all characters but this is very Reylo centric, anyhoo this is trash like everything I write, like very light, some of these tags look super serious but nothing is graphic, super fluff, surrogate parenting, this is not you average reylo story I guess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:39:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121966</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianixela/pseuds/ianixela</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the things that Doctor Ben Solo has wanted in his life, none of them has ever come close to the one thing he wants above all: becoming a father. With his last relationship long over, and the daunting idea of dating in his late thirties hanging over his head, he does what any single man with a sizeable income would in his situation. He finds a surrogate, across the ocean in sunny California. </p>
<p>It's as unpredictable an endeavour as one can expect, but in his tribulations, Ben figures out many things about life, about himself, about love. Mostly about love, really, and the many forms it can take.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>160</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Epiphanies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Um so happy belated May the Fourth!? Hope you guys had a nice time remembering that TROS was a trash fire? Is Disney gonna sue me for mentioning that date? Anyhoo I’m gonna address the elephant in the room: this is not RIP TIDE, whoops...It was supposed to come to an end two weeks ago but to be real with y’all, I did not love what I had going on so I scrapped it. If all goes well it should update as scheduled this upcoming Friday, maybe. So about this story...eh...it’s mother’s day so here’s some mother’s day fluff, I’m sorry, couldn’t help myself. Enjoy the super fluffy fluff I guess.</p>
<p>Warnings: AU, explicit sex, semi-public sex, mild medical talk, surrogate parenting, miscarriage mentions (non-graphic), non-monogamous/unconventional relationships, alcohol mentions, adult language/themes. This is mostly sickly sweet, be warned.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p>
  <span>Ben spends the entirety of his overnight Paris to Los Angeles flight fretting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that it is unlike him to worry, he’s a master of it, worrying is a skill, a well hidden second nature.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks about his patients, about the pile of files he left on his office desk in favour of the thick one resting on his knees, about his nurses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His very capable nurses and assistants that will </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> not burn down the clinic while he’s away on business, but that he can’t stop fretting about anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath, looks out the oval window into the night sky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re high above the clouds, hurtling through space at ridiculous speed and yet he feels so small right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders if he’s making a mistake, setting out on this adventure on his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it's not like he has a choice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's now, or never.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Southern California is sun warmed pavement and lazing palm trees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The streets familiar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>California was his home, once, ages ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels like a lifetime ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the hotel room he reviews the file again, before going to bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her name flowing past his lips, like an incantation, reading through her worn file over and over again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels like he knows everything about Rey and yet he knows nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rey has a beautiful wealth of wavy, chestnut hair cascading on her shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her skin is parsed with freckles and healthy summer tan, her body lean and athletic, eyes like jasper; brown, green and gold entwined.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s a runner, and she trains four days a week. She’s a vegetarian, doesn’t smoke, drinks in reasonable moderation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s read it from her file, the one he’s gone over hundreds of times on the flight over to Los Angeles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s 29, healthy, attractive. A real Cali girl, surfboards and bikinis.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's her fourth time being a surrogate, but it will be the first time her own eggs will be used.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rey holds everything in her hands and she has no idea yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the morning he calls her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The softness of her voice is soothing. Drawls syrupy-sweet in the receiver, a bit of southern warmth, Texas heat in California crisp sentences.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course, I know of a good place! Let's meet there to discuss the specifics, if you’d like.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lists an address in Santa Monica, close to the beach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t want to meet her at the agency.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt too impersonal, when he’d visited the night before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Big white rooms, elegant but stiff chairs, harsh, white lighting that burns the eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a medical facility, Ben knew this, and as such it had to look the part.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As a man who spent most of his days running from his clinic to the hospital, he knew that the coldness of the setting wouldn’t fit this particular conversation he wanted to have with her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So a little beachfront coffee shop it is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They meet on a Monday, after Ben’s had the weekend to get over his jet lag.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He still feels a little woozy as he quickly downs an espresso at the hotel’s bar, stepping out in the sweltering heat to hop in a cab.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders if it's the remnants of sleep, or the conversation he’s about to have that makes him feel like he’s reeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the ocean, the air is balmy and tangy with salt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has a vivid memory of a vacation in the Maldives, back when Bazine had still been in love with him. When problems had been few and far between, when their future had been clear as ocean water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels</span>
  <em>
    <span> ages</span>
  </em>
  <span> ago, sun kissing his pale skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rey sits alone on the cafe’s terrace, sipping on a green juice with a colourful straw, her ruddy hair salt mussed, curling on tan shoulders, her smile pearly white when she waves him over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben feels a little short of breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every step towards her feels like lead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is the moment his carefully planned future unfolds, materializes itself into being.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hopes that he’s ready for it.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>He’s picked her out of hundreds of candidates.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the agency sent their registry of surrogates and egg donors, he’d felt at wit’s ends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were so many of them, he’d spent hours going through each file, incapable of choice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How does one choose a mother for their child out of a binder?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d wondered if it was futile until he found Rey’s file.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There had been something in her hazel eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something magnetic and captivating that was only more gut wrenching in person.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She offers him her hand, her fingers small and warm, grip strong and self assured.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi Rey, very nice to meet you at last.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hasn’t spoken any English since med school, living in Paris for the past fifteen years. Despite the fact that he was raised speaking it, the words feel rusty and alien on his tongue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very nice meeting you too, Doctor Solo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice is as warm and soft as her hands, the southern drawl more pronounced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a natural beauty, an easy going pace to her that settles Ben’s nerves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my, you can call me Ben. I don’t know where to start…” he laughs, and she smirks in response, hands him a menu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Order some food, have a coffee. Let's talk business later, there’s no rush.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s common sense to her words, his stomach growling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He orders another coffee, orange juice, fruit and toast with ripe, buttery avocado.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They talk about the food, about California, the weather, easy things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me about you.” She asks, toying with the loose hem of her white boat-necked sweater, “I mean, I know you work in the medical field, and I know you’re single, but that’s all I know. Tell me about Paris.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stomach settled, it's easier for Ben to talk, open up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a clinic, I’m a Paediatrician. I’ve always loved children, and taking care of them was always my life’s work. But…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want one of your own to cherish?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods, sips his ice water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. I’ve always wanted my own. It's just that my life situation made it difficult.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too busy?” She asks, a little innocently and he laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For a time, yes. Then I was in a relationship with someone who...well, I was under the impression that she’d want children, eventually. I was with her for many years, but that desire I had, she never ended up sharing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It still feels raw, the breakup.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's been more than a year, already, and yet he still finds himself longing for her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Missing what he once had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! That wasn’t in your file…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was single when I started the process, the question never came up in the screening. Not for this agency anyway. I don’t know how I feel about dating, honestly. I dated girls in college, med school…I don’t remember what it's like. I was with Bazine for five…nearly six years.” he muses, trying to remember his last girlfriend before her and failing, brain still full of his old love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Besides, I assume you’re a little busy for the conventional dating game as it is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The idea of him going on dates is laughable, to him anyway. He's not getting any younger, and he can't begin to fathom how much the game has changed since then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m married to my work. The only pause I was willing to take was to have a baby, maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And here you are, across the ocean...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's something I want very dearly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's his desire that killed his relationship. He’s painfully aware of the fact, now that he’s here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They take a walk down on the beach, dipping their toes in shimmering ocean water. </span>
  <span>Rey picks up seashells as she goes, stuffing them in a ziplock in her purse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She likes the shimmery ones, and the sand dollars too, he notices.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her toenails are painted mint green, there are woven bands, friendship bracelets, around her ankles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's not the first time you do this I’ve read…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fourth time.” Rey replies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sun dips on her bronzed skin, her boat necked sweater baring toned, freckled shoulders and a lacy cream strap. She is slender, agile, the athletic body of a dancer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I carried a baby for a friend. A dear friend, who kept miscarrying. It broke her heart, her spirit, not being able to carry a baby to term. I wanted to help. That's when I realized that maybe this was my calling…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben pauses in his steps, water washing over his bare feet, frothing, cold and alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's very generous, doing what you do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She straightens up, holding a pale pink abalone shell, places it in his open palm with a smile, her hazel eyes endlessly bright.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It gave me a reason to be, at a time in my life when nothing was going well. Its part generosity, part self-fulfilment. I like it when everyone is happy. And besides I have the body for it, I'm healthy, I recover quickly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The explanation makes Ben laugh a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You certainly are a special and rare breed of human being.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She winks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope so.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s a lot of anger in Bazine this time.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ben can feel it, like shimmering heat, pouring out of her in waves.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They’ve had the argument a thousand times before, but this time it's been pushed further than before. Too far for Ben to know how to diffuse the fight this time.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bazine’s lip is quivering.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t understand why you’re so adamant in your refusal, I’m not asking you to become a stay at home mom...”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But that’s exactly what I’ll become if we go through with this.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He reaches for Bazine’s bare shoulder, still damp with shower water.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t understand why you’d ever think that.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She pulls away, laughs without mirth. She sounds tired and resigned.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Because I know you by heart, Ben Solo. I know how in love you are with your work. I know you have good intentions, but your work is your everything. And I’m gonna end up alone, at home with a baby I didn’t want.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You won’t. I swear to god Bazine... want us to do this together, nothing would make me happier. I’ll take a sabbatical, I’ll do anything…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And then what? You go back to the clinic, and I end up here? I don’t want a baby Ben. I’ve never wanted one, I’ve made my mind. I have had my mind made up about this for years.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ben wants to rip the hair out of his head, months of frustration piling up in his mind.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re selfish.” He spits angrily, backing away.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes.” Bazine replies.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There is a finality to her tone. It's the last time they’ll talk about this, Been knows this and doesn’t know how to stop it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I am selfish. I don’t want to share you. I don’t want to compromise what we have by stepping on my own desires to please yours. But you’re selfish too. You want a baby more than you want to be with me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It hurts a lot more coming out of her mouth than it did in his mind.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>All this time Ben thought he’d get both.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He realizes he has to choose, and that his choice has been made ages ago.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When Bazine leaves later, suitcase in hand, he doesn’t have the words to make her stay.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>She looks small in the blue hospital gown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The examination room is cool and white, equipment buzzing in a corner, the paper sheeting of the table crinkling underneath her legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s reminded of the little girls that come and go through his office, small legs and painted baby toes, too large gowns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just that at his clinic, the gowns have unicorns and dinosaurs printed on them, and his office is warm and welcoming. It feels nothing like this cold room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you nervous?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A little,” she nods, “It's the first time I do things this way, with my own genetic material. It's a little surreal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes her hand in his, her fingers thin and cold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks more tired than she had on that Monday afternoon on the beach, gathering shells in her purse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was never a big fan of hospitals…funny that I end up spending so much time in them.” she laughs, dispelling the tense atmosphere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I read in your file that you gave birth at home the last time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stretches her back, nodding again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The parents requested it, if I was comfortable with it and it was considered safe. I’m in good health, the whole thing was low risk so we did as they wished. It was nice. There’s something reassuring about being surrounded with your own things, with people who care so deeply and are so thankful for what you’re doing for them. It was a beautiful experience. All my births were.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope this experience is as fulfilling as the others.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He squeezes her fingers again, she smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I feel very comfortable with you Ben. We probably could’ve done this with a turkey baster after a good bottle of wine, but I doubt the agency would’ve liked that…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both laugh, for a long time, pent up stress releasing all at once, only stopping when the technician enters the room pushing a cart ahead of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want me to stay for the procedure?” Ben asks, reaching to support her back as she lays on the table for the final examination.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d love that.” She replies, still holding his hand.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>The second insemination didn’t take.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The news hits him straight in the gut. Enough to make his knees falter, sitting heavily in his office chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rey lost another baby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their first hadn’t made it past the 8th week. This one hadn’t made it past six.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so sorry Ben</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice is muted, exhausted. None of that honey warmth that usually tints her sultry voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a silence at the other end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Like I’ve failed you. I’m so sorry Ben, words cannot even express how sorry I feel. Maybe…Maybe I’m not the right one for you…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she starts, sending Ben’s heart racing in panic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the one, Rey. I can’t imagine myself doing this with anyone but you. Maybe I should come to California, I could be there to take care of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want you to put your work on hold for me. The point of hiring me was to avoid any potential distractions for you and your life. I don’t want you to feel like you have to.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks of how she put her own life on hold for him. It's not even about the money at this point, he knows she’s more invested in this than she ever has before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This loss was her loss too. This baby they lost was</span>
  <em>
    <span> hers </span>
  </em>
  <span>too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's not about that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben takes a deep breath. Thinking of all the fights with loved ones, sleepless nights, missed dates and anniversaries because he always put his work first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His life has been an endless sacrifice to the altar of medicine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s ready for it to change.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m getting on the earliest flight. I don’t want you to be alone. Get some rest now, I’ll call you in the morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Alright, Doctor.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a hint of teasing back in her tone, and it warms his heart to hear it.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Rey’s house is lost in the Hollywood hills.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A big bungalow with bay windows, white stucco walls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an orange and white Australian shepherd mix greeting him at the door, her tail wagging, mismatched blue and brown eyes glowing in the California sun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s Beebee, she’s the sweetest, don’t worry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi Beebee...” he coos, petting her between the ears, her fluffy tail wagging faster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The insides of her home are all cream walls and paintings, cacti in clay pots, warm wooden floors drenched in sunlight. He feels right at home, dragging in his suitcase.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What they’re doing is a little bit against the rules.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not supposed to know where she lives for security reasons, so the fact that he’ll be living there for the next few months seems </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> reprehensible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It hardly even matters to him anymore when he steps inside her home, flooded with warmth, feeling the weight of stress and responsibilities lifting from his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he needed the sabbatical more than he even expected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rey looks tired. She took the two miscarriages harder than she’d let on, but he doesn’t question her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are dark circles underneath her eyes, looking frail and fragile underneath her black sweater. But her smile is still lovely and real, genuine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come, let me give you the grand tour…” she offers, taking his free hand in hers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a kitchen with warm wood cabinets and a marble island, pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, and a dining room big enough to sit twenty at the huge oak table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My grandfather made the table and the benches. It was willed to me when he passed away, I think he knew I’d put it to good use, I love cooking for friends…you’ll probably meet a few while you’re here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The living room has a mushy, soft sectional and a bright pueblo carpet. Mosaic tables in shade of blue and rust. Teals and greens.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rey is a ceramist, throwing clay pots and bowls, tasseling walls with intricate mosaics.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It explains her soft hands, spending her days elbow deep in clay, her workshop in a shed out in her spacious yard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guest bedroom is beautiful, sunny and warm, wood floor creaking underneath his bare toes, huge window overseeing the yard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a queen bed with brightly coloured pillows and a cream comforter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks of his apartment in Paris, its bare-bones simplicity. How he’s never bothered to truly make it his own, touching the dark green leaves of the orchid sitting on the nightstand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A phalaenopsis, right?” He asks, eyeing the white and pink blooms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, it is. You like orchids?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love them. I just never took the time to get some for myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d probably die a thousand times of inattention in his apartment too, but she doesn’t need to know about his complete lack of a green thumb.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you like the room?” She asks, opening the closet door, revealing some ingenious shelves and drawers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do. It's perfect.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m happy you like it. You have your own bathroom too, right here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opens another door, to a small bathroom covered in beautiful grey and white tile, a deep bathtub and another big window letting in the afternoon light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It feels like I’m at a fancy hotel…” he laughs, only half joking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only better,” she replies, squeezing his shoulder, “I’ll let you unpack and rest a bit, you’re probably still jet lagged?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods, feeling exhaustion weighing down on his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I might nap a little bit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. I’ll make some dinner later, I’ll wake you when it's ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls her close, before she gets to the door. Feels compelled to hold her and she leans against him, arms sliding around his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, for having me here.” He murmurs, close enough to her neck to feel the warmth of her skin on his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her scent is earthy and sweet, amber perfume permeating her curls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m happy you came.” She replies, softly against his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bed and pillows are scented with soothing lavender, and he falls asleep fully dressed, without unpacking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His first truly repairing sleep in months.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Throwing a clay bowl is harder than it seems.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's the fourth time Ben tries to curve the wall of the large bowl, but the clay has a mind of its own, collapsing underneath his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs, taking his foot off the pedal of the potter’s wheel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do they always make it seem so easy in movies? This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rey laughs, brush in hand as she glazes a set of teacups.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Too many people watched </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ghost </span>
  </em>
  <span>and think clay is easy and not nearly as messy as it is…here, let me help.” she offers, walking across the studio to where Ben is sitting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She kneels on the floor beside him, her clay stained jeans matted with red dust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day before they’d gone to the clinic together, for another trial.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben hopes that this is the right one, but he’s staying until it works.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have to let the clay talk to you.” she says, sounding somewhat mystical.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Talk to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! It knows what it wants to become, you just have to listen to it. Press the pedal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hands push and pull at the mass of red clay, easily shaping it into a cylinder. The movements are effortless, like she could do them with her eyes closed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wouldn’t surprise him if she could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” she takes his hands, guiding them on the clay, “what is it telling you? Does it want high walls? A broad base? You’re just guiding the clay in the shape it wants to be. Focus on the clay itself, not the shape you’re imagining for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben lets go of his expectations and lets himself feel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Really feel, and it's not just about the clay and his hands, but he feels for a lifetime of self-denied emotions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clay glides underneath his fingertips, slippery smooth, walls of the bowl taking shape effortlessly now that he’s supporting it instead of forcing it into being.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He realizes he’s been trying to force things for too long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I just had an epiphany.” he mutters, staring at the finished bowl on the spinning plate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rey squeezes his shoulder, her fingers wet through his stained tee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Throwing clay has a therapeutic effect on many people, me included.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think…I think I’ve been trying too hard to make things happen. I’ve been pushing myself, and everyone around me too hard instead of letting things happen of their own accord.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She squeezes harder, massaging the tense muscle of his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A lot of people do. The important thing is that you’re realizing it now. Be kind to yourself, Ben. You deserve it.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Dinner parties always were one of his favourite things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cooking and selecting the best wines, making sure your guests were having the best time, the warm atmosphere. His mother would always throw the best parties, and after dinner he’d sink into the couch, his head resting on the family dog’s haunches. Chewie had been a patient dog.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He never had time in Paris, his schedule too unforgiving to let him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like I haven’t lived for the past five years…” he muses, chopping vegetables for the grill in the backyard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eggplant and bright red peppers, sweet corn, the greenest summer squash.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rey’s friends out on the patio, lively chatting and the strumming of a guitar. A lot of her friends are beautiful, creative people with welcoming smiles and hugs. There’s Poe Dameron, a fashion photographer, and Finn and Rose, two musicians, and their five year old little girl Rey carried for them. Kaydel, the contemporary dancer, and Paige, Rose’s sister and a famous painter. They’d all been so kind and welcoming when Rey had introduced him as her friend, tugging him by the hand playfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's gonna be a fun night, Ben can feel it in his very bones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Rey asks, standing across from him at the marble island, washing lettuce in the sink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean that I haven’t hosted a single dinner since I’ve had my private practice. That I’ve hardly even taken time for myself to cook things. I never see my friends…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's a lonely life, being as busy as you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m tired of it. I want to live again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rey circles the island, tugs him into a hug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then live. Love the moment, enjoy it fully.” she murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben pulls away a fraction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s beautiful from this close, freckles and amber eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben kisses her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t think about it, just does what his heart tells him to right this instant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking chances.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels right, it feels perfect, her lips tasting of sweet, fruity cider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t expected to feel this attraction to her. It surged through him unbidden and utterly unplanned for. After years of being with the woman he’d planned on marrying, he didn’t think he could still be attracted to anyone else and yet, Rey stirred things in him that he thought he’d left behind with Bazine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She returns his kiss softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart races at the way her arms wrap around his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s a little short of breath when he pulls away, feeling like bursting at the seams.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” he blurts out, and she laughs, rubs the back of his neck with her soft hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be. It was nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I decided to live in the moment I guess.” he mutters, only triggering more laughter from her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her laughter is so lovely, full and deep, genuine amusement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulls away, takes his cheeks in her warm hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can always be in the moment, you and I. Always undefined, if that’s what you want. I like to live my life one day at a time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's Ben’s turn to chuckle, pulling her closer, arms around her small waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can a woman so young be so wise…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m an old soul apparently.” she replies, cheeks flushed a pretty pink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben can’t stop staring at her lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels so amazing he could sing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would it be okay if I kissed you again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her full lips curl up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like it if you did.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Ben is a better runner than he remembers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beebee trotting by his side, leash free and happy as can be, Rey a few paces behind them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They go for runs every morning with Bee, who needs to spend her energy like all working dogs do or else she goes stir-crazy, chewing old socks and beloved shoes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rey tells him she’s learned this the hard way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's a peaceful way to start the day, alone with his thoughts and breathing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he’ll sign up for the Paris marathon next year. Maybe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>California, Rey, this lifestyle, it changes him. For the better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He keeps in touch with his patients and colleagues of course. Two hours every day. But as soon as he shuts the computer screen, his brain is elsewhere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not at work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's in the moment, throwing clay, cooking, laying down on the sunny patio with Beebee on his right side and Rey on his left, reading books he’s been putting off even opening for months, years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His outlook on life has changed entirely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They reach the top of the hill, slowing down their steps, sun low and bright on the horizon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's gonna be a nice day today. Look at how bright the sun already is.” Ben points out, wrapping an arm around Rey’s shoulders, kissing her temple.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hasn’t slept in the guest room in two weeks, not since the dinner party. Their relationship is as spontaneous and organic as the growth of a plant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first time had been awkward, just a little bit, lots of laughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t had sex in a year, and his trysts with women who hadn’t been Bazine went all the way back to college, he’d been a little rusty. But eager.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eager to please, eager to share that intimacy with her. Aching for every touch, every one of her sighs, every kiss. Sinking against her in the sheets sated and fulfilled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been perfect in its imperfection.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should go to the beach today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pack up some lunch and spend the day there?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! We haven’t been that often, today would be nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like a plan…last one down the hill carries the food!” he calls out, racing down the road with Beebee on his heels, Rey’s laughter just a few paces behind.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>He likes what saltwater and sun does to her hair, streaking it with rust and gold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Twirling a damp curl around his fingers as they eat some fruit under the shade of a parasol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So pretty…” he coos, and she chuckles, pinching his bare arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was a southern beauty queen you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d been born in Texas, a little town south of Austin, an only child to aging parents with dogs and horses for company.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her parents had both passed away from cancer, a lifetime of smoking taking its toll.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d left the farm to her favourite cousin, a skilled horsewoman, her husband and three daughters. She visited them a few times a year, getting back to her southern roots.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean in</span>
  <em>
    <span> pageants</span>
  </em>
  <span> and stuff?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughs at his surprised expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's a very southern thing you know? Beauty pageants and all that. I did a few but I was too much of a tomboy. It was to please my mom, but I was much happier shovelling horse poop and rolling around in the dirt with dogs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He snorts, picking up a piece of pineapple from the container and shoving it whole in his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Somehow I’m not that surprised, you definitely like getting dirty…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is that supposed to mean!” she replies, poking him in the ribs, tickling him until he can’t breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You</span>
  <em>
    <span> know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what it means!” he replies, dragging her down on top of him to make the tickling stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her kisses taste like pineapple and berries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could kiss her for days, especially like this, his back on hot sand and her sun-kissed body on top of his, the roaring of the ocean in his veins.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She settles on top of him, her cheek against his heart, catching their breath under the bright sun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think the last insemination took root.” she murmurs against his chest, “We have one more try. After that it's IVF. I hope it doesn’t have to go there…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows how IVF procedures are more invasive, he doesn’t want her to go through it if it can be avoided.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t we just try the conventional way?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The conventional way?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know…what we’ve been doing. Often.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He caresses her sun warmed back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about the agency?” she asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ve been paid already. I could always change my mind…you’d still get your fee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She straightens up, a little sharply. Her eyes green and gold like an autumn forest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not doing it for the money. Not this time. This doesn’t feel like…work, not even a little. If I was in it for the fee, I’d probably have quit after the second miscarriage. It put me down so much, I really had to want it to keep going.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tucks a curl behind her ear. He knows she took it hard, and he’s endlessly thankful she’s agreed to keep going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can negotiate something, I mean, I’ve been living at your place for two months…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles, leans her chin against his collarbone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m happy you’re here. It's not like you’re a burden!” she laughs, “The only thing I’m concerned about is you Ben. What happens after?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t thought about it too much. Hardly, even.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Being parents together outside of the agency regulation is something else entirely. Something we need to discuss. I don’t mind if our relationship stays undefined, I don’t think you were ever meant to be tied down…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has a thought for the slew of relationships he’s messed up in the last decade. Maybe monogamy really isn’t meant for him. Just defining himself clearly seems impossible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re probably right about that.” Ben concedes, “But would you feel alright having a child with a man you’re not dating? Not being around all the time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s quiet for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never thought of myself as a mother. Not in the conventional sense. I wouldn’t mind if you took main custody, as long as I get news. Whether or not I see the child would be up to you. I feel good with that kind of arrangement if that’s what you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes her face in his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think I could take our child away from you and never see you again. You’re part of my life now, more than you might think. I have very strong feelings for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have strong feelings for you too, Ben.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her kiss is soft, heartfelt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s try this?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>They <em>probably</em> hadn’t meant to drink that much wine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slurring their words and stumbling against each other, laughing as they crashed down in the grass of the empty park a block from her house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too lazy and pleasantly drunk to walk the five minutes it would take.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The restaurant’s happy hour special had been too hard to refuse, and they’d indulged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ve been this drunk since college…” he groans, rolling to his side beside her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The grass is fresh and dewy, smells of faraway childhood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks of the night he spent drinking after his breakup was finalized. Friends with good intentions wanting him to forget. He’d ended up naked in a friend’s bathtub at four in the morning trying to sober up enough to work the next day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d cried a lot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not his proudest moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe not since college but I haven’t had this much <em>fun</em> drinking since college, that’s for sure…Come here.” He murmurs, pulling her close by the waist, kissing her offered lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her mouth is soft and sweet, but her kiss is full of hunger, teeth tugging at his lower lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It makes the pit of his stomach roil with desire, heat racing down his legs, arousal a heady pulse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reaches for her breast through her dress, rousing a nipple with his thumb, her tongue against his sending shocks of sensation all the way down to his groin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you.” he growls against her jaw, feeling breathless and overheated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” She chuckles, low in her throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is no protesting that now is not the time, not here, not where anyone walking through could see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead she drags him on top of her, reaching between them for the fly of his jeans, freeing him from the tight constraints. Dress riding up her hips when he grinds down against her, between her thighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She parts them enough for him to get closer, pulls him up against her by the shirt collar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surging heat when he sinks in, easy because she’s just as aroused as he is, her body shuddering with pleasure when his hips arch, curve down to fit her body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first few thrusts are mind blowing, his whole body wanting this more than it wants air, cursing against her hair when her thighs wrap around his waist, hands raking his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re too inebriated for it to last long, the excitement of being outside where anyone could see them setting fire to their tryst, Ben’s steady, tireless rhythm forcing her to muffle moans and cries against his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh god…</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ben</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” she groans, and he loves how her lips curl, tremble around his name, heels pressing against the backs of his thighs. He can feel her clenching tight, her hips arching off the grass to get enough friction, and she falls apart.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Oh fuck...please</span><em><span>…please</span></em> <em><span>Ben...</span></em><span>”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>He knows what she’s asking for, the gathering heat in his belly overspilling brighter than stars, following her in ecstasy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinking against her giddy and breathless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re crazy…” he mutters against her sweat pearled forehead, triggering peals of laughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe a little bit…hey, don’t fall asleep!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels too good. The warmth and intimacy of her body, cool wind on his back, the earthy, green scent wafting up from the fresh cut grass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could definitely fall asleep, right here, buried deep inside her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But this is nice…” he whines, hips pulsing down just to feel her clench with aftershocks, to hear her gasping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is until the cops find us.” she wheezes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She manages to convince him to pull out, after much whining on his part, stumbling home on unsteady legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He regrets rolling around in the grass when they shower, the tiny blades covering them both in micro-cuts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another childhood memory, skin burning underneath the hot water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he’s falling asleep, he realizes that most of the memories surfacing during his sabbatical, this time he took to get away from himself, are good ones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sandcastles he’d build on the beach as a child, wrestling in the grass with Chewie, nights of fun drinking in college.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the good stuff he’d forgotten trying to move on with his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has many things to thank Rey for. </span>
  <span>He hopes he remembers it in the morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But in the morning, they are both hungover and Rey makes him pancakes, kissing his nose between bites, and his heart is so full of love it feels like bursting.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>One bright morning, weeks later, Rey is running a fever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A light one, but it's enough to make the doctor in him worry, flattening his hand on her forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine. Just brew me a cup of tea, I promise I’ll stay in bed.” she murmurs, bundled in three blankets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grudgingly agrees, still thinking that maybe he should get his stethoscope and thermometer out. </span>
  <span>It's when she spits out her tea later, incapable of keeping it down, that he insists.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m probably just hungover from last night, we <em>did</em> have a lot of wine at Poe's party…” she protests, rinsing her mouth with water at the bathroom sink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“True, but might as well make use of my Medical degree. Come on now, let me at least listen to your heart…Up you go.” he coaxes, sitting her up on the bathroom counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He warms the stethoscope before pressing it to her chest, listening intently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fast pulse. Let’s check your blood pressure…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes the sphygmomanometer out of his briefcase and she laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you hide a nurse in there too?” she asks, snorting when he wraps the cuff around her arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can take the doctor out of the clinic, but you can’t take the doctor out of me…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He squeezes the bulb, pressing the stethoscope to the crook of her elbow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know it's kinda hot having you examine me shirtless like that…I might be having doctor fantasies right now…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckles, releasing the pressure, counting the beats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I gonna ruin your fantasy if I ask you to pee in a cup?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“<em>What?</em>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He drapes the stethoscope around his neck, releasing her arm from the cuff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Elevated temperature, high pulse, high blood pressure, nausea…frequent, unprotected sex with me, a male human being for the past month. You might be pregnant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think? I’ve been pregnant before obviously, I never get those symptoms…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What have we got to lose?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“True. Bring me a cup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes exactly two minutes for the little stick to read two pink lines.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vivid pink, clear as day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pregnant.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Emilia has her mother’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t know it yet, even if she’s already noticed her eyes aren’t much like his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re pale, between honey and green, and rounder, a little less deep set than his own, thick lashed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beautiful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her light brown hair has the same curl pattern too, big bold curls, like a southern belle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pale skin is all his, underneath the smattering of freckles she complains about sometimes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It looks like I got sprayed in mud!” she complains, after an especially sunny summer day where a whole sprinkling had appeared on her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think they look like little constellations on your face, little stars. I like them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” she asks, sitting on the bathroom counter, dutifully brushing her teeth, mouth full of white foam.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a photograph with his phone to show her how beautiful she is, and she laughs at her reflection.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look so much like your mother…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that good daddy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's very good. Your mother is beautiful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later when she’s asleep in her bed, surrounded with dinosaur plushies, he sends the photograph to Rey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's amazing how much she takes after you.” he tells her on the phone, drinking a glass of crisp, fruity Chardonnay on his patio.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun has been down for a while and yet there is still orange and pink at the edge of the Parisian skyline.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you that surprised?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she replies, in slightly accented French.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s been taking classes for the past year, to prepare for her visit, and to speak to her daughter on the phone, every Monday and Thursday. They have been for the past year, Emilia old enough to carry a bit of conversation, and those calls make Ben’s heart soar in his chest every time, their little nonsensical chatter filling him with joy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With your redhead genetics? Not so much. Just like her southern beauty queen mom…” he teases, warmed by her laughter at the other end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Have you told her I’m visiting?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not yet. In her head her mom is this faraway legend she speaks to twice a week…I’m worried that she’ll resent me, for keeping you to myself all this time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben had brought one year old Emilia to Paris once she was weaned. Leaving Rey in Los Angeles to pursue her work, letting him return to his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was an odd arrangement for most outsiders, but it was perfect for them, their independent souls not quite ready for a steady relationship. The love kept alive by the distance, and their daughter. </span>
  <span>Ben still loved her very much, enough to know that neither of them were exactly ready to be tied down, even to each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been their agreement. Long distance love. And it worked for them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until Ben decided that Emilia needed to know her mother face to face, that Rey was no longer only his to see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t think surprising her with my visit would be a good idea. You’ll have to tell her, eventually.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I will, probably this week. I’m excited that you’re coming, I’ve missed you. Two or three times a year isn’t enough. Maybe Emilia and I should come spend Christmas holidays in Los Angeles. She’s been asking me for a dog. I think Beebee could placate her a little bit…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rey laughs at the other end. That soft laughter he loves so much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Our lover’s getaways will certainly be different with a little girl and dog running around, but I’m willing to try it.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We'll manage it just fine. Besides, I want to make good on what we discussed the other day, and have the time to make it happen..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben wanted another child, and Rey had smiled and told him yes. They were ready for the next step of their relationship, and the idea of building up to something with her filled Ben with more joy than his heart could even handle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"<em>Hmm, maybe we can try making them in a bed this time and not drunkenly in a public park, although that makes for an amusing origin story...</em>"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs, remembering that hazy night when they'd conceived Emilia, making love in the moonlight on the fresh cut grass of an L.A. public park. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We will try, although I hardly trust myself when I'll finally get to hold you next week. If you don't get pregnant during your stay with us I'd be surprised..." he purrs, heat blooming in his lower belly when she chuckles in response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"<em>Hmm, is that a challenge? Pretty sure my fertile window is in two weeks or so. We'll have to do our best.</em>"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I love you, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you too.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never tell you enough…I never thank you enough for giving me our daughter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Making me part of your lives is thanks enough.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I finally realized that keeping you to myself and keeping her sheltered made no sense. I think she’s old enough to understand now. We’re in this playgroup where a lot of the kids have single parents, or mixed families, for all kinds of reasons. They’re all so transparent with their children, I wanted to do the same. She’s old enough to travel too, it all makes sense. I want you to be in our lives.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I like to let you come to your own realizations.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckles, getting up from the patio chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you do, thank god for that. Without you I’d be a very different, and probably unhappy man. I have to go work a little bit. Call me tomorrow?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course, my love. Don’t work too hard. Sleep well</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> her smile at the other end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I know.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Emilia likes pineapple in her morning yogurt. Any fruit, but pineapple most of all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Probably because Rey had eaten fruit in ridiculous quantities in her first trimester. It was all she had been able to stomach, giving their daughter a sweet tooth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want more?” he asks, cutting another slice of ripe fruit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes please.” her tongue catching on the syllables.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d lost a front tooth a day before, giving her a most hilarious lisp, and a nice fat coin from the tooth fairy, immediately hoarded in her blue piggy bank.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A handmade gift from her mother.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nearly had enough for the football she’d been eyeing all winter at the sporting goods store around the corner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d offered to pay for it hundreds of times but she was hell bent on paying for it herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>As soon as I get it, I’m challenging auntie Phasma and the twins for a match!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she’d sworn, hooking her pinkie with his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want more yogurt too? Some toast?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just the pineapple…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckles, bringing over two fat slices to her plate, sitting down at the table beside her with his coffee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have things to discuss with you, baby.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stuffs half a slice whole in her mouth, dripping juice all over herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” she replies, mouth full and he sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who raised you like that…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her little brows furrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> did!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To eat like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! You always tell me to eat a bunch so I grow tall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eat a bunch yes, but chew slowly…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She chews extra slowly, letting pieces fall out of her mouth, just to bug him a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders how she’ll be as a teenager if she’s already that snarky. It's not looking too promising for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I spoke to your mom last night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My mom! In California? Why didn’t I speak to her too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s already jumping in her chair. When Rey calls, it’s the highlight of his daughter’s day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was late, you'd gone to bed already. We decided that it was time for her to come visit for a few weeks. So you get to meet her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, really.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emilia is quiet for a few seconds, her little face scrunching in worry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think she’ll like me? What if she doesn’t like me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben laughs, picks up his long legged daughter out of her chair onto his lap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She already loves you, you know it. She tells you every time you two speak on the phone, remember? She carried you in her belly, she took care of you from the second you were born. We did it by ourselves at her house you know? You were in such a hurry to meet us we didn’t even make it to the hospital. She asks about you every day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? Every day?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She does. The only reason you haven’t seen her yet is because dad is a little silly sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's the understatement of the century, but she doesn’t have to know that yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where will she sleep?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In the bedroom with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sees the questions forming in her mind already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You and mom, you’re not like other parents.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs at that, hugging her tight to his chest until she squirms in his grip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Definitely not. It's complicated, but one day, when you’re a little older, maybe we can explain better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When is she coming?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Next week on Friday, right after you finish kindergarten. We’re gonna go pick her up at the airport. And if it goes well, at Christmas, we’re gonna take a plane, you and me, and we’re gonna go see mom in California for the winter break.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we? I want to see palm trees!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s even better things than palm trees in California…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She bounces on his lap, consumed with curiosity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you remember? Mommy has a dog!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emilia’s wide eyed look is by far his favourite, her small mouth falling open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Beebee! I remember now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Beebee, she likes sticks, running after squirrels, and old socks too, but I have no idea why…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will she play with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Mention the dog,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rey had said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mother knows best.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Speaking of playing, everyone is getting together at the park this afternoon for a little picnic. Do you want us to go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you gonna help me pack some lunch?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She scrunches her nose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After my TV show?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sets her down on the tiled floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. Dad is gonna finish his coffee and write emails while you do that. Meet me here in an hour?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods, endlessly serious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Deal!”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The park is just a short drive away, hot enough to drive with the windows down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They park between a black SUV and a grey sedan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look baby, uncle Hux and auntie Phasma are here already, that’s their cars. And I think I see Nellie in the monkey bars…” he strains his eyes, seeing the small silhouette hanging upside down on the red bars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That long red hair is unmistakable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s been Nellie’s paediatrician for three years, he knows what her little body had been through at birth. It always warms his heart seeing her grow so tall and in such good health.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking after her father, all for the best.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another child growing up far from her mother, for reasons completely different than his own and yet, it's that similarity between him and Hux that had them become friends over the years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emilia runs out of the car to her friend, climbing up the bars before he can even make it to the picnic table where Hux is sitting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m happy to see you.” Hux welcomes him, far past handshakes, settling for a hug instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you guys been here long?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Five minutes. Phasma is on the football field with the twins. I think they had a game this morning, they should be back any minute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is Mitaka and his son coming too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On their way, as of five minutes ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So it's all of us then. I’m happy, Emilia was going a little stir-crazy this week, it's gonna do her some good to run a bit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She has so much energy…her mother is like that too is she?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Her mother is a distance runner. High energy definitely runs in the family. You know, Emilia and Nellie are above average for height…Phasma’s girl too. I think we should have a volleyball team.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you can get Phas to forget about football for a minute, it might work.” Hux laughs, pulling water bottles out of a cooler underneath the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben takes a thankful sip, end of summer heat making the horizon shimmer in the early afternoon sun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches two happy little girls hanging upside down on the bright red monkey bars and feels thankful for what life has given him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The good, the bad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But most of all the daughter he loves more than anything, and the lover who made it possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Love, he’s learned, makes everything possible.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oof that was so cheesy I'm sorry, happy mother's day to all the moms out there!  This is unbeta-ed so all mistakes are my own. Engagement gives me a will to live so kudos if you enjoyed and yell at me if you didn't I guess? Cheers xoxo</p></blockquote></div></div>
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